Journals
by beljoseh
Summary: Macbeth explains to Lady Macbeth why he killed the guards
1. macbeth journal

**Basically this is Macbeth talking to Lady Macbeth, and he is explaining to her why he killed the guards. There will be more like this.**

MACBETH: O yet I do repent me of my fury

That I did kill them. But my Lady,

What appalls thee so?

Thou knowest the sleeping dead are but pictures.

The death of Duncan was of great moment,

But to kill these other two was a trifling toy.

I have done the deed, so why not repeat it?

They are better dead than alive.

The pale hands of these two cowards

Would soon be known incapable of such a sin.

Banquo doth wish for a meeting in which

We could question this bloody piece of work

To know't further. This doth perturb me.

These two fools are a threat to us,

They have all in their power

To deny all accusation made against them.

By dispatching them, therefore slaughtering

All proof of their unmanly innocence,

And I have created an ideal image.

Thus have I dressed the guards as murderers.

There they lie, steeped in the colour of their trade.

Those sparrows which one thought did assalt the owl,

Whilst I, the raven and true culprit, do withdraw

Like an innocent flower, unsuspected, and,

Being the serpent underneath, go wallow

In the beauty of my triumph.


	2. duncan journal

This is Duncan writing in his journal or whatever you want to call it the night before he dies, describing how Lady Macbeth came to greet him, I tried to bring in all the symbols used in Shakespeare's Macbeth, and used some quotes. Wonder if you can find them hehehe ï.

At noon did I arrive,

Drenched from thunder, lightning and rain,

At th' dwelling of Macbeth,

Whose gentle spouse did greet me

With sensitivity and graciousness.

Ah! did she warm me on a night so dull,

Swathed in ruby skirts like an innocent flower.

I did solicit: "where be Macbeth?"

For th' valiant warrior to th' greeting came not,

But his kindly wife did reply that, I being an honoured guest,

Brave Macbeth did, in his own person, prepare th' castle for my splendid presence, while his servants did labour and travail to make all perfect.

Never ere had I felt so honoured, Macbeth is a constant man.

Then did Lady Macbeth conduct me towards her castle,

Across th' marshland which doth surround th' battlements.

In th' course of our walk, a raven did soar down from th' sky,

And circled me three times. What splendid creatures birds are!

Always have they been akin to me, and I to them.

As we approached th' castle, Macbeth came forth to salute us,

Though his face did seem so grim. I pity him,

For th' Normans he did dispatch had been fixed in his mind.

Though he is valiant, Macbeth could ne'er slay a man

Unless 'twere forced upon him,

And the mere deliberation of such a sin doth perturb him much.

Then entered I the castle and, guided by my champion,

Came into the banquet hall, whither did await three ciphers

Waiting to present an act. Only Macbeth did seem so distant,

That in the course of our repast, his lady escorted him

To a nearby area, out of hearing. When the pair returned,

Macbeth did seem much cheered, although pensive yet.

My honoured hostess doth have the flair o' great comfort.

'Twas a jolly feast that followed, for th' thanes were in the best of humours,

And there was much carousing,

Which caused me to spatter my red wine onto my white garment.

Now stand I in the crimson-coated chamber that kind Lady Macbeth granted me.

Ne'er have I felt so secure.

I bade the watches away for the night,

For customary 'tis to lay one's safety in the hands of one's hosts;

Macbeth is ever loyal and devoted, as is his lady.


	3. fleance flees from the murderers

HORNE Josépha 4/11/2004 

Journal entry n°4:

Fleance flees from the murderers 

Hark! Murder and treason!

My dear father hath been murdered,

Assaulted by three mysterious killers.

They did not act of their own accord, though,

But on the command of one more highly placed.

The air itself doth bare the stench of treasonous malice.

There's daggers in men's smiles

And for this reason do I flee the lands of Macbeth.

His majesty doth bare a guise so dark

That my young and juvenile heart doth intuit

That yond Macbeth hath slain my father.

But sooth, I am now running 'cross th'marshland.

Flying from yond three gory men,

And the cruel Macbeth whose rule doth disease Scotland.

Numbly, I am tearing through the vast landscape.

Now, o'er the one half-world, nature seems dead,

Poisoned, doubtlessly, by the evil tyrant.

Hark! Peace! 'Twas the owl that shrieked.

Yet wherefore this strange conduct?

Methinks it doth devour it's mate.

Oh! Nature hath been translated

By the death of our beloved King Duncan.

What ho! What are yon brutish figures three?

I see them not with the clarity of the day,

For dark night strangles the travelling lamp.

Are they the weird sisters that did so disturb

The once peaceful slumber of my late father?

These beldams did traffic with him and Macbeth

In riddles and affairs of death.

Dear father's sleep hath also revealed that

They did prophesy Macbeth King of Scotland 

And gentle Banquo the father of Kings.

Why! That could only mean that such a destiny

Doth await me! If chance will have me king,

Why chance may crown me without my stir!

O filthy and treacherous Macbeth!

At thy cruel and murderous hand

Hath perished my innocent father.

Yet wherefore do ye sisters beckon so?

Some instinct bids me shun you.

Avaunt! Avaunt! Hence horrible shadows!

Fly, Fleance, fly, fly, fly!


	4. lady macduff contemplates her husband's ...

Alas, where art thou, my husband,

Who hath treacherously fled the land?

Why in that rawness left you wife and child,

Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,

Without leave-taking? My Lord, thou hast callously

Defied thy family, thy castle, thy country.

What had he done to make him fly the land?

Was it madness or fear? He is as pale a man

As I e'er did know of. He was driven away

From those he loved by folly and cowardice.

His companions do insist that 'twas wisdom.

Wisdom! To leave his wife, to leave his babes,

His mansion and his titles, in a place

From whence himself does fly? And what must I do?

I am but a wren, a diminutive bird, who hath but to fight,

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

O Macduff thou art but a traitor,

Thou hast in all unmanliness fled Scotland

At the verge of its most dire distress,

He that is a traitor is no better than dead,

Ne'er again shall we see the treacherous Macduff.

And my babes? They are but young and delicate

How will they do for a father to teach them manliness?

Will they too be left at the mercy of dark and distress?

Alas, so is poor Scotland. What wilt thou do, Macduff?

Flee Scotland when 'tis in such a state?

It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash

Is added to her wounds. Wilt thou leave her so?

Or dost thou fear the traitor that made it so?

Dost thou fear His Majesty, Macbeth?

The tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues?

Esteem him as a lamb, for he hath not touched us yet.

Canst thou not slaughter this lamb,

Puny and craven beneath his borrowed robes of greatness

Who, but by bleating horrible commands to lowly dogs,

Hath showered his green field in blood and veiled the beaming sun,

Making the blue heavens black? His poor brothers

No more do sleep, but wander in their bloody fields

Weeping over their blemished lands, and fearing

The trials of the following day. Wilt thou leave us so?

Wilt thou retreat and leave thy family and country

To perish beneath the dark hand of the tyrant?


End file.
